


To the very best of times

by Sherlocked_Moriartied



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, I made myself sad, M/M, Poor Sherlock, i still don't know why i wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 19:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1237759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlocked_Moriartied/pseuds/Sherlocked_Moriartied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“To the very best of times, John.” <br/>Sherlock shook the man’s hand, holding his breath. That was the last time he could touch John’s warm skin, that he could look at him in the eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the very best of times

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on the spur of the moment, freely, without thinking too much. That ending made me so sad -I just wanted to hug Sherlock- and this is the result.  
> Not Beta'ed so, since English is not my first language, if you notice any mistake, just let me now.

“To the very best of times, John.”   
Sherlock shook the man’s hand, holding his breath. That was the last time he could touch John’s warm skin, that he could look at him in the eyes. In those two years apart from him he had understood how hard it was to love someone but, back in the days, he knew he was going to see him again. But now?   
Now he was going straight to his death and he had wasted the last chance he had to tell John he loved him.

  
He let go of him, pressing his lips in a thin line, before walking away, climbing the stairs of the airplane. Sitting down, he stared out of the window, looking at the blond man who was now holding Mary’s hand and Sherlock’s heart clenched. His brother was right: caring wasn’t definitely an advantage. He had never felt like that before, as if he had something crashing his chest: was that love? If this was the case, then he didn’t want to love anymore. Wasn’t it supposed to be good? Then why was it so painful?   
He closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them again, noticing that John was nothing more than a dot now.

“Stupid Sherlock.” He muttered under his breath, looking away. Why he got himself involved like that? He was fine until John had arrived in his life, filling every room of his Mind Palace with his smile, his wit… day after day Sherlock had learned to care for him, to love him. And John had loved him as well, he was sure of that. In the past, when they had looked at each other, silently, he had felt the tension between them, running through their bodies. But both of them never did or said anything, too scared to face their feelings.   
And now Sherlock was going to his death and John was starting a new life, with his wife and a baby, away from the troubles, away from him.

But Sherlock was never going to forget the first time their eyes met, in the laboratory of the Bart’s hospital. The first time he had understood that everything was going to change.


End file.
